Apologies and Thank You's
by SmittiMJC
Summary: They were simply men and women in these moments of weakness- of doubt and of anxiety and even embarrassment- the freelancers understood that every rib cage hid a heart. That the trading between them didnt have to be blows or bullets. Sometimes words were fine. They were only human, and time had to be made for those tumultuous human motifs. (2013 now a series! Updates every Monday.
1. Chapter 1: I came to say I'm sorry

Chapter 1: ** " I came to say I'm _sorry."_**

After Carolinas breakdown, Tex finds herself on the training floor in a moment of reflection. A restless York just happens to be watching her in place of the resting Carolina. For reasons she won't admit, Tex invites him down on the floor. Not to fight, but to talk. She doesn't expect to end up enthralled in the conversation, nor does she expect it to help as much as it does.

(A/N Do review my dear readers.)

_**You should've done it. Got it over with.**_

Omega was easy to ignore when Tex was focusing on the force and power of her

fists. The results were different when she had her finger on a trigger. Or her hands

on an axe...

She set the paint gun she was idly twirling back on the table provided. Immediately,

F.I.L.L.S had it swallowed back into the training floor for future use.

_**She's asleep. It would be quick and quiet. A pillow will work.**_

She thought back with as much venom as possible, _I'm not killing her._

_**And why not?**_

_Why should I?_

_**I'll bet she wouldn't think this hard if the decision was reversed.**_

_A bet isn't a fact, Omega. Retire. __**Now.**_

At last he granted her peace and withered from existence in a silver flash. But even

without being visible his scratching death threats were still peeling at the very corners

of her mind.

Clearly, there would be no training tonight. As the director was so cautious about

hinting at, Omega was _obsessed_ with the hope of taking over. Taking over what she

wasn't sure. She wasn't sympathetic in any large measure. All Omega was really

doing was taking the cap off the gas can and dousing a fire that already existed. The

little cock-bite.

She turned when she heard a heavily muffled clink above her head. Her chin rose to

meet the window overlooking the training floor. Corner to corner she noticed nothing

unusual. And then, there was York, trying to sit up in his seat, leaning with an obvious

exhaustion on one of the desks by the glass. A full mug of coffee was beside him,

fogging the glass and distorting his reflection. He yawned. Sat up. Rubbed his eyes,

blinked, and yawned once more before their gazes finally met.

Neither had been previously aware of the other.

She was bemused.

He seemed nervous.

She raised a hand to assure his attention belonged to her and when he waved back,

she bent her finger toward herself. Any company but Omega was good company.

"Come down!" She called up.

He pointed to himself then pressed his hand to the glass and Tex could see him mouth

an incredulous, "_Me_?"

She curved her hip and put a hand on it with a confirming nod.

He left and seconds later, the doors hissed open and out stepped the unarmored York

and his scolding coffee cup.

Tex sat down, her back to him,"Hey, York."

It wasn't that she wasn't happy to see him. York was actually one of the freelancers

she was able to pretty easily tolerate. His caution around her wasn't as cold as

Carolina's or as awkward as Wash's. It wasn't the misguided animosity South nurtured

or the distant acknowledgment of everyone else. She wasn't just a big secret to York,

it seemed. There was no riddle to unravel or some plot to be exposed. At least not

with her. He was suspicious of the project itself, but when it came down to it, she was

just one of them.

She wasn't sure how she felt about being '_one of them' _yet.

He stayed standing, waiting for an invitation she guessed. She just sat there, smiling

in her helmet, not giving him the permission he seemed to need. One day she would

ask him how he managed to retain manners in a field that demanded nothing short of

no mercy.

She would have preferred to keep training but the experience was soured by Omegas

constant malicious suggestions. Each punch and jab had become more and more irate

until she was nothing more than flustered and annoyed.

Why couldn't she have a normal, or at least _calm,_AI like everyone else?

Were any of the AI's normal-at all?

She peeked up at the observation rooms glass windows, pointedly ignoring York's

impatient shuffling behind her. No one was watching today.

No freelancers (Sans York)

No Carolina.

No Director.

It would've been embarrassing if anyone but York had found the badass Texas,

relaxing like a shy teenager on a picnic blanket, sitting cross-legged in the

middle of the floor. She didn't even have her weapons on her, no gun to pretend to be

cleaning.

"York." She acknowledged again, trying at last to insert the invitation into her tone.

She heard him chuckle behind her, then a rustle of casual clothing as he came around

to sit, cross-legged as well. With black sweats and a stupid graphic sports shirt he

appeared ready to retire, as if he had caught her image in passing and decided to say

goodnight. He used his arms as support and leaned back.

"Hey, Texas."

"Tex." she said.

"Huh?"

"Just Tex." She repeated and with a childlike admiration added, "I like it better. Rolls

off the tongue."

He rolled his shoulders back a bit, "Does make it a lil' easier to say, doesn't it? So,

what's wrong, Tex? You seem a little off."

She exhaled, "A little. Eh- it's _just_ the AI _thing."_

"You sound like Wash. He's pretty nervous about his implantation too."

She laughed, with no humor present, "Yeah...at least he doesn't have one yet." She

froze and looked at York, hard.

_He_ was the one with no armor on, so why did she feel so vulnerable? He had a

perpetual ghost of a smile on his face as he listened to her.

At her sudden attention, he set his coffee aside and shot into a stiff sitting position.

Frantically, his hands roamed his body. When he found nothing out of place, he looked

back up with a wry smile.

"Not a fan of Grifball?" he patted the logo on his shirt.

She smirked, "York, you _dork._ I was just wondering. Since you met me, you've been..._n_ice."

She put a hard emphasis on the 'N' in nice.

"Oh. I thought you were looking at my eye."

"Nah," She looked at the scarred white tissue when he said it. Luckily, York couldnt follow her gaze through her visor as long as she didnt turn her head. She stretched her armored legs out, "Well, that too. You didn't have to try to help me in that paint match."

"Well," He shrugged back into his original position, "You didn't have to stop when

Carolina went down. Honestly, I thought you were gonna go in on her while she was

screaming."

"So you came to say thanks?"

York pressed his lips together and squinted as if trying to pinpoint an answer. Tex

accidentally snickered aloud. She couldn't help it. Without his helmet on, without _their_

helmets on, the other freelancers emotions were so interesting. The only expression

she didn't like was the anguish on Carolina's face when her AI wouldn't stop.

She didn't like that face at all. The red pieces of hair that fell around the straining

mouth and the tightly squeezed eyes. But then, just as Omega had started whispering

in her ear...

_**End her. Do it.**_

_**Win.**_

_**You know you want to.**_

_**DO IT.**_

That was when Carolina's expression changed. Much like York's, her lips had pressed

together, holding back the painful moans, and her green eyes had all the exposure

her voice never held. She was hurt and no one was going to help her. No one could.

The only person with the power to had denied her.

York finally spoke, "No Tex. I didn't come to say thank you, but I do wanna say that

too. I came to say I'm _sorry."_

"Sorry?"

"Sorry," York crossed his fingers and placed the hand over his heart, "I'm sorry for

how I judged you. I should've known you wouldn't kick her while she was down.

You're not a dirty fighter."

Tex could've raised her own eyebrows as a flower of guilt bloomed in her chest, oddly

outside of the armor. She almost checked to see if York could see it. She had killed

C.T just for calling her a shadow, taken the credit from Carolina for retrieving the

package, and abandoned both Carolina and York to get the sarcophagus back to

command. Washington was only spared because he had been riding the package at

the time. She may have lost to her anger, or Omega or whatever, those times. But

_Omega_lost during her and Carolinas match. She considered that a TKO.

"It wasn't an easy decision. Omega wanted her out- for good."

York snapped his fingers, making an echo in the empty training floor behind his voice,

"Funny you'd say that. Ya know, Delta was runnin' probabilities for you killing her that

night and he came out 50/50. I guess that means you wanted her alive. You _don't_

hate her."

"Of course I don't. Caro_lina_ has beef with _me."_

There was a silence for a moment. Tex looked away, towards the huge doors and then

back up at the observatory room. Still no eavesdroppers.

"Oh, shit."

She turned to York and found him looking at Omegas silver hologram. Deltas green

glowed to life in front of him like a watchdog.

_"Omega, I am sure you are aware of the protocol of AI appearing to those who are_

_not their host."_

"S'alright, D. I'm sure Omega's just curi-"

"Omega, _offline."_ Tex snapped. The AI blinked away with a growl. "I'd rather he not

interrupt this conversation."

"He's creepier than Sigma. Retire, D." He caught her eyes as he turned from Delta,"So

I take it your en_joying_this then?"

She ignored his dumb grin, "A little. Apology accepted, by the way. And you're

welcome for my _not_pummeling Carolina."

He gave a mockingly crisp bow, bending at the abdomen, "Thank you. And you're

welcome...also, by the way."

"What the hell should I be thanking _you_for?" Tex asked, rocking her left foot back and forth.

"Well, we understand that here at Project freelancer you have many choices in

running your mouth and we appreciate that you have chosen York's _suh-mooth_

hotline services to-"

She tipped her foot enough to tap his knee," Oh, shut up...thanks, York."

A little relief trickled out in her tone, but she didnt mind. Especially when he stretched

one leg out and tapped her back, house slippers against armor.

"You're welcome, Tex."


	2. Chapter 2: Do you ever wonder why

**_Maine was never one to provide comfort. Vengeance and retribution, sure. But not comfort. He wasn't made for it. He wasn't soft or gentle or even patient. He was brutal and blunt in every manner...so how he ends up making Flowers smile is a mystery he can't solve. _**

Maine sighed as he came to. He gradually shifted onto his elbows and took in the room. He was still the only patient so far. Instinctively he felt there was a loss of something and the gain of another. He caught the sight of two aspirin and a cup of iced water at the bedside and hummed quietly in his throat. That explained the gain. _Then what's missing?_

The pain was gone.

For now. Only for now, and in his mind a casual serenity cast its light over the shadow that had been his mental vision since Sigma. Only for now would he be able to say he owned this feeling. Once he said he was fine, Sigma would be replaced and that feeling he owned would be as much his as Sigma's, and Sigma never kept a _good_ feeling around for long.

Why couldn't the doctors see the pain always stopped when they _pulled _Sigma? It was putting him back, even with the aspirin and the capsules and the pills, it was putting him _back_ that catalyzed the pain and took away his solace of having his head to himself. If he could still talk, he'd have a list of people and things to say to them. It was the only thing to do waiting in recovery. Make lists and brood. Speaking of the people on that list..number one, the doctors. He would let them know what was wrong (Since they didn't seem to realize it) and dissect their "medical opinions" with a scalpel of anger. If Sigma was the problem…why couldn't they just remove him? But that kind of bled into 2. _Sigma._

He owed his AI a large deal of his more recent triumph. If riding his own strength was a _Ford_, Sigma's blend of intellect and enigma was a_ Jaguar_. He waited expectantly for a humble show of gratitude to follow that thought before he remembered where he was. And where Sigma wasn't. That he and Sigma were never in recovery together, because Sigma always caused the visits. Though, Maine realized with mild comfort, Carolina would be joining him soon if the locker room gossip was to be believed. Actually, that was the day the headaches got worse. Maybe it was Sigma simply projecting himself away, or the subtle way he instigated hot coals of jealousy under Carolina's bare feet. But all Maine could do was shake his head and be glad the ache had ebbed. And despite the guilt that followed the small joy, he was drunk with relief when Sigma had set his aim on someone else. Even if he had presented an argument in her defense, he knew his AI well enough to realize Sigma would promptly dismember any good intentions on his part with innocent sounding questions. '_Is something the matter, Agent Maine? I was only trying to congratulate Agent Carolina.'_

No one but Maine, of course, would notice the presence of something violent and malicious nestled into the dapper Charisma of the AI's words. Even if that entity existed in plain sight, Sigma was clever enough to make the others blind to it and make them think his manipulative suggestions were their own ideas. The worst part was that he did it so easily; it was almost insulting to witness it. Freelancers were supposed to make use of their AI, not the reverse.

But what could he do? Tell? He had long ago understood that even if he did point out Sigma's powers of persuasion, the AI wasn't actually doing anything worthy of demerit. Just because Sigma suggested a freelancer jump off a bridge didn't make him responsible if said freelancer went through with it. He was only_ talking_.

But his tongue was a golden snake that delivered sweet words that seemed valuable until you tasted the venom.

He rolled over on the cot, wondering about a new list he could.

"Well," came a laugh, "aren't we looking chipper?"

Maine felt a fresh headache sprout behind his eyelids and growled. He knew the voice. He disliked the owner.

Flowers only chuckled, high on his own cheerfulness. He wore his armor in full but Maine could still imagine the grin stretching under the blue freelancer's nose. Flowers had a brilliant smile like that. Once you saw it, you usually didn't forget it. Besides, he talked a little slower when he was beaming like this. He strolled right over the chair by Maine's bed and comfortably seated himself, legs crossed. Maine, helmetless, did his best to show his annoyance as a way of greeting.

Flowers hardly took notice, though he was looking at him, "You're in here for a headache aren't you?"

Maine could tell he wasn't smiling anymore. His voice was a little more subdued and his inflection more discreet. Maine nodded to be clear, but he also knew Flowers could've answered his own question. He was usually privy to things the director knew and he kept his lips sealed tighter then he himself did. Therefore, he was either trying to be social or he was prying to find out something even the director wouldn't share with him. Maine obliged. He had nothing better to do other than sleep anyhow.

"Well, that's too bad. I do hate to see a comrade in distress. How _are_ you feeling by the way?"

Maine shrugged. Honestly he wasn't sure if Flowers was teasing or not. He talked a lot like Wyoming…only his sincerity was typically real where Wyoming's was sarcastic and fake.

"Not too bad, huh? That's a good thing to hear buddy!" He clapped a hand over his armored knee and stood up, "I was just thinking recently...when all this Freelancer business is over I was wondering what it would be like to finally step into my home again. I don't really have a big family, they drifted away from me. You?"

Maine shook his head though he did have family. None that he planned to return to, but family nonetheless. Flowers' eyes slid to the aspirin at the bedside.

"Sorry to hear that, champ." He pinched his eyes in thought, "Do you ever wonder..._why_ we're here?"

_What? _Everyone knew about the Covenant war_. _Maine vaguely heard a similar question in the back of his head_. _He'd heard someone asking that before...No, not asking. York, North and Wash sometimes discussed the same topic in the lockers. Still, he couldn't really say he had given it much thought himself. They were there to fight and to win. Wasn't that why anyone- _everyone_- went to war?

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Flowers blinked and turned away from the bedside, "At ease, soldier. I was just wondering. Well Agent Maine…I really should get going. I just thought I'd stop by…_and_…"

_Why is he pausing?_ Maine raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Oh, was I rambling? Must've gotten a teensy bit sidetracked. It's been on my mind for a while now, that's all. Mm, say, would you mind if I shared your space a little more? I have a-"

Maine completely zoned out. It was far too distracting trying to figure out _why _Flowers was talking so much…and why in space he had chosen to talk to _him_. Weren't the others out on the ship? _There is no mission to be sent on._

So what the hell did Flowers want? Information?

_From someone who cannot speak? What would you know that he wouldn't?_

Or maybe insight to having an AI.

_But he does not have one. Nor is he scheduled for implantation. You might be over-thinking things._

He frowned when he realized he was countering his own arguments with things Sigma would say. Even_ without_ him, he was with him. In any case, Sigma usually just voiced what Maine was thinking…which was starting not to seem like such a curious coincidence all of a sudden. When he found himself in the conversation again, Flowers was finishing a sentence.

"-off my chest."

Maine growled in a manner he had hoped sounded enough like a question for Flowers to understand and waited until the blue freelancer realized what he was trying to ask. It didn't take long. Flowers rested his knuckles on his hip and used the other hand to produce a loud snap," There I go again. Anyway, you take care agent. It was a pleasure talking to you." He strolled out just as he had strolled in. With one exception; his footsteps seemed lighter ad his smile slowed his last word to the drowsy agent Maine, "Thanks."

Noncommittally, Maine grunted, only sighing back into the support of the infirmary pillows when he heard the door hiss shut.

Whatever Flowers had wanted, he wondered if he truly got it. He hadn't been prying, or being sneaky or being a dick. He had just walked in, opened his mouth, basically talked to himself, closed it, and then left. He had only been his normal flamboyant self and he had actually _thanked_ him for a conversation that they had never had. He must've been a happy idiot. Like York and Washington.

Or maybe he just wanted what all the other freelancers wanted. What they gave in to Sigma for. Maybe Flowers just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn't judge him or hold his secrets as ransom. But it didn't make sense to go looking for conversation from the one agent on the ship who couldn't talk.

He closed his eyes, sorely aware of how much time he had wasting mulling over Flowers' strange visit. There was only about an hour separating him now from reuniting with Sigma. He recalled the aspirin he had yet to take and smiled_. Well, an hour and a few aspirin_. In fact, now would be a good time for him to get some sleep. He sat up and claimed the pills from the bedside before his gloves wrapped around the cup of water he'd been brought earlier. He closed his eyes and tossed the pills back, then felt the cold rim of the cup before the water splashed over his tongue, chasing the pills down. He swallowed and felt something like Flowers' smile spread over his face and with it came the same weightlessness Flowers seemed to have left with.

So, maybe it made perfect sense to find the one mute agent,because Flowers probably didn't want someone to talk to, just someone to listen, or give him relief from something. Relief from his own thoughts ad concerns didn't seem as far-fetched as it had before. He laughed at himself for thinking he was the only freelancer that had too much going on upstairs.

He closed his eyes and set the cup aside, ice cubes clanking against the glass. If this was the feeling Flowers was trying to get, Maine decided, he didn't really mind him visiting.


End file.
